


His Fists of Glory

by redstaronmyshoulder (CaptainAmelia22)



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, F/M, Jane the Reporter, Rafael is a boxing champion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/redstaronmyshoulder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane is a reporter about to get her big break.</p><p>And Rafael is her big...</p><p>Well, read it and we'll see how this ends up, shall we?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Fists of Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambpersand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambpersand/gifts).



> My best friend challenged me to write a boxing club au. And because I am always weak for boxing club au's I wrote this instead of being a productive adult.

“You just have to win this last match, Raf. And then you’ll be free and clear of Dad and the hotel.”

Rafael Solano glanced at Luisa from across the weight room and rolled his eyes.

“Tell me more, coach,” he grunted, curling the bar closer to his chest, focusing for the moment, on the burn of his muscles. “I don’t think I’ve grasped the magnitude of the situation yet.”

His sister rolled her eyes back and popped another peanut between her lips.

“You know what I mean, Rafael,” she grumbled, picking a Sports Illustrated up off of the floor beside her bench. “I’m just trying to keep you focused.”

Rafael just sighed and set the bar stacked with weights down carefully at his feet, before grabbing a towel and rubbing his chest down.

“Why are you here, Luisa?” he asked, moving the towel to his hair and neck, eyes closing as the familiar ache of stretched and warm muscles began to wash over him. “Aren’t you supposed to be writing my victory speech or something?”

She just grinned but before she could say something snarky back, the door to the weight room opened and Rafael’s manager and Luisa’s ex walked in, a stranger in her wake.

“Hello Raf, Luisa,” Rose said, cold blue eyes narrowing as she took them both in and bright white teeth bared in a shark-like grin. Neither Solano sibling greeted her; Rafael instead focused his attention on the pretty girl hiding in his icy manager’s shadow.

She was short and made of nothing but curves.

Curves and long, wavy dark hair.

Latina.

And definitely proud of it.

She watched him thoughtfully, dark eyes taking every inch of him in and she flushed when he cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Hello,” he said, brushing past Rose to greet the newcomer, hand outthrust. “I’m Rafael Solano.”

She took his hand with a faint snort, bright smile curling her lips and his heart lurched in his chest at the sight of dark eyes sparkling and her pert nose wrinkling with hidden laughter.

“I know,” she said, shaking his hand firmly, confidently. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jane.”

He didn’t miss the tip of her tongue darting to moisten the corners. Or the way her eyes skated over his chest and arms, taking in the sweat cooling on his skin, the tendons in his arms.

Her own brow rose at him and her grin turned mischievous. “Looks like I’m going to be your new ring girl tonight, Mr. Solano,” she said, gently extricating her hand from his and folding her arms over her chest.

He gaped at her for a moment, eyes skating down her luscious body and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“ _You?”_ he sputtered, glancing from her to Rose, still smiling coolly and back to the girl drawing herself up to her full height before him; she barely come to his chin, he noted with increasing incredulity. “A ring girl?! What happened to Lina?”

Those dark eyes, sparkling with humor a moment before, flashed dangerously and her smile thinned. “You doubting me, cabrón?” she hissed, poking him sharply in the chest. “Lina recommended me herself.”

Rose cleared her throat, easing between them, hand pressed to his chest and Jane the supposed ring girl’s shoulder.

“All right, you two,” she snapped, pushing them both back a step or two. “Raf, behave. Focus on the fight, not the girls strutting around you in the ring. And you,” she hissed, turning her ice-cold fury on the now meek new girl. “I introduced you to Mr. Solano out of courtesy, because you were obviously so excited about meeting him. If you cannot execute this job with decorum, I’ll be sure to get you fired. Is that understood Ms. Villanueva?”

Dark eyes flashed in his direction, something he couldn’t recognize flashing in their depths and that nose wrinkled again. This time in irritation, he suspected.

“Yeah,” she sighed, hands raised in surrender. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

Rose sighed and waved her away. “Get out now, before I get really irritated. And make sure you put some heels on for tonight. We want to make sure the spectators can actually see you over the ropes.”

That sharp flash of anger danced in her eyes again and Rafael couldn’t help grinning at her when she spun away in her sandals and stalked form the weight room.

“So, new ring girl, huh?” he asked, grinning at Rose when she glared at him in warning. “She’s cute.”

“Keep your eyes to yourself and your mind on the fight, Raf,” she snapped, pulling her phone from the pocket of her shorts. “We can’t afford to lose this one.”

Luisa and Rafael shared a glance when the redhead left the room and he sighed.

“How am I going to tell her I don’t want her help with the gym after I win this, Luisa?” he groaned, sagging to the bench beside his sister. “She and Dad have never understood…”

“You?” Luisa finished for him, head resting on his shoulder. “I know Raf. I know. But you can do this you know.  You can buy your own gym and run it. Just like Dad bought his own hotel way back in the day and turned it into what it is now.

“You can do it. I believe in you.”

Neither Solano heard the tiny gasp that came from behind the nearly closed weight room door.

If they had…

Well, the Solano/Moore boxing match would have been down one ring girl that night.

**

Jane Gloriana Villanueva was spunky.

That’s what her boss always said when he got asked about her. She was like something out of a telenovela. Feisty and spirited and ready to take on the world.

All five feet, three inches of her.

“Look Michael,” she said the night she met Rafael Solano, “I can do this. This is going to be my big break!”

Michael leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles on the cluttered surface of his desk.

“You really think Rafael Solano is going to break free of Emilio Solano and their family legacy, to start his own business?” he mused, pen tapping his lips as he watched Jane pace before him.

She was in heels, he noted with great interest.

Heels and booty shorts and a weird woven crop top that barely hid her breasts.

Her dark hair bounced around her shoulders, hanging from a high ponytail and yeah.

She was cute.

Like something out of every guy’s wildest fantasy.

“You’re not great at undercover gigs, Jane,” he continued slowly, eyes narrowing when she nearly tipped over in the heels and grabbed the edge of his desk with a curse. “Maybe we should get Petra to do this one instead-”

“No!” Jane shouted, jabbing a finger in his direction, dragging herself upright with help from his chair. “You _can’t_ give this one to that shark!”

Michael just grinned at her and tapped her nose with his pen.

“All right,” he said, laughing when she punched him lightly in the shoulder. “All _right._ I won’t give it to Petra. But Jane…” He hesitated, kicking free of his desk to stand before her. She glanced up at him and he sighed, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Promise me you’ll be careful? These fights can get messy sometimes and since they’re not _entirely_ legal…”

He let that hang between them, like so many other things they’d left alone over the past year. Jane grinned, brushing the unspoken tension aside as per usual and stretched up on her toes, wobbling as she did, to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll be fine Michael!” she said, dark eyes sparkling with excitement. “No one even suspects that I’m a reporter for the Times! I’ll walk the ring with my pieces of cardboard, shake my ass a few times and then I’ll get my story and we’ll break this whole thing wide open before the rest of Miami even knows what hit them!”

She tottered away from him towards the door but spun around a bit unsteadily as she yanked the door open.

“Can you imagine?” she crowed as she swayed. “The golden Solano son standing up to his father and stepping down from the Marbella legacy? It’s better than anything that’s happened in the ‘Passions of Santos’ this season!”

Michael just chuckled and rolled his eyes, skating his fingers through his hair when the door slammed closed behind her.

“Jesus,” he sighed, sagging into his chair, his eyes closing on the last image of her ass bouncing away from him in those tiny shorts.

It was a visual he’d keep to himself for a long time to come.

**

“Can you even walk in those heels?”

Jane jumped when Rafael spoke directly behind her and huffed before turning to face him; she only swayed a little bit, thank God.

“Yes!” she shot back, heart beginning to hammer in her chest when she came face-to-face with him, still not quite tall enough to meet his gaze.

He was shirtless-again-and his chiseled chest actually glowed.

“It’s oil,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of his pecs and she jumped, clearing her throat.

“Oh-oh,” she stammered, bottom lip disappearing between her teeth for a moment. “Okay. So-um…what were we talking about?”

Rafael grinned, those damn playboy eyes of his darkening when he leaned against the locker next to hers, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes drifted down her body once more, taking in her skimpy clothes and the damn heels she was really beginning to hate.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair free of her lips and murmured, “We were talking about you and those heels and how you look really good in them. Jane.”

Heart hammering.

Hands sweating.

Head spinning.

“Ha!” she scoffed, punching him lightly in his bulging bicep, before turning back to her locker and the tiny tape recorder she’d been preparing to shove down her cleavage. “You’re full of it Solano!”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, not missing the look of surprise in his eyes and she smiled to herself.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, Rocky,” she said, slamming the locker and sneakily shoving the tape recorder between her boobs in the pretense of straightening the stupid top Lina had given her. “You’ve got a fight to win.”

She patted his arm, reveling as she did in the flex and roll of his slick skin beneath her palm and did her best to sashay from the locker room, away from him.

She couldn’t miss his hot gaze on her though and she shivered, heart jumping into her throat as the door closed with a thought thud behind her.

 _Keep your own eyes to yourself, Lois Lane,_ she grumbled to herself. _You have your own fight to win._

_The fight of a lifetime._

**

“THIS IS THE FIGHT OF A LIFETIME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” bellowed the MC. “THIS IS THE FIGHT THAT WILL GO DOWN IN THE HISTORY BOOKS. RAFAEL SOLANA AND HIS GREATEST OPPONENT, LACHLAN MOORE! PUT YOUR GLOVES TOGETHER…”

“Just remain calm, Raf,” Luisa said, rubbing his shoulders shooting a glare in Rose’s direction, who ignored them, cold eyes watching the crowd and the bouncing boxer in the other corner of the ring. “Keep yourself focused. And remember why you’re doing this.”

Rafael nodded, teeth grinding into his guard but he didn’t pay any attention to the screaming crowd or the MC or his sister’s words or even Lachlan, glaring at him from across the ring.

The only thing he could focus on was…

Silver heels, stepping gingerly around the ring and luscious curves peeking at him through barely there clothes.

Jane glanced at him every now and then, that intense interest in his gaze and he couldn’t help grinning at her every time their eyes met and her cheeks flushed.

He couldn’t help feeling like she was studying him, trying to understand him.

And it made something in his chest tighten and his skin burn every time her hot eyes washed over him.

It was a strange feeling to have.

Strange.

But welcome.

“Hit him with all you’ve got, Raf!” Luisa shouted in his ear when the bell rang and the crowd surged to their feet.

He just nodded, eyes following their new ring girl as she made her careful way across the ring to be helped between the ropes by the club staff.

Which, of course, wasn’t the greatest way to start the fight that would change everything for him.

“Wussing out already, Solano?” Lachlan shouted at him as stars began to dance across his eyes and blood began to dribble from his nose.

Rafael shook his head, ears ringing from Lachlan’s blow but he just grinned at the asshole, eyes drifting over the man’s shoulders to meet the hot gaze of a petite Latina he was pretty sure had never worn heels before tonight, let alone ever seen a boxing match.

“Not on your life, Moore,” he shouted back, executing a quick one-two attack that took his opponent by surprise.

Hot, dark eyes watched him all night, even as she paced the ring and as the night went on he found himself thinking of other things than his gym.

Of his one chance at breaking away from his father’s cold grasp and his damn hotels.

He found himself thinking of luscious curves and dark eyes sparkling with humor and a sharp wit the likes of which he’d never come across before.

**

The story of a lifetime.

 _Her_ story of a lifetime.

Rafael Solano breaking free of the Solano family legacy and stepping out of his father’s shadow to strike his own path.

To, apparently, open his own boxing club and teach courses to those interested in learning how to fight.

And it was all _hers._

Not Petra’s. Not Nadine’s.

 _Hers,_ Jane Gloriana Villanueva’s!

“Yessss!” she hissed that night in the now empty women’s locker room, executing a wobbly little dance before her locker. “You did it, you did it, you did-”

“Did what?”

His voice was a little muffled, a little nasley thanks to what she was sure was a broken nose. But it still made her skin bump and her heart begin to tremble in her chest.

“Rafael!” she gasped, spinning around so fast she had to catch herself on her locker door when her ankles buckled. “What-what are you doing here?!”

He was leaning against the locker room door, grinning at her over the tampons stuffed in his nose and damn, did the man _ever_ wear a shirt?!

Bruises darkened his skin, blossoming across his ribs and over his cheekbones and she couldn’t help wincing at the thought of how much they must hurt.

He smirked and shrugged. “I can’t feel them, if that’s what you’re looking so concerned about,” he said, shadowed eyes darkening as he took her in in that hungry way she’d seen in the ring.

Her skin flushed at the thought and she swallowed nervously, finding herself pulled toward him, her fingers clammy against her thighs. There’s something about Rafael Solano, she thought when his eyes drifted over her once again, pausing on her chest, her thighs, the damn silver heels.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, against the small piece of plastic she hadn’t had a chance to remove.

There’s something about Rafael Solano, something magnetic.

Something...magnetic.

In that moment, standing toe-to-toe with one of Miami’s hottest (emphasis on ‘hot’) playboys, Jane Gloriana Villanueva realized this.

This was what being a telenovela star felt like.

His hands settled on her arms, callused fingers brushing over her suddenly sensitized skin and he smelled like sweat and antiseptic and _man._

“Wow,” she whispered, eyes fluttering closed, body leaning into his. “Rafael…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, lips brushing over her hair, down her cheek, over her jaw, to the galloping pulse in her throat. “You feel so good in my arms, Jane.”

And damn.

It _did_ feel good in Rafael Solano’s arms.

So good.

His hands moved down her arms, to her hips, pulling her closer to him and as she stumbled into his chest, her own hands flying out to catch herself on his chest, she gasped.

And he kissed her, swollen and bruised lips taking hers hungrily.

Fiercely.

And before she could even stop herself her heel was popping up and her fingers were tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. She groaned when his hands squeezed her ass and his tongue stroked hers gently, coaxing her lips to spread further for his caress.

It was a beautiful moment.

So damn hot.

Something right out of the Passions of Santos.

And then he was removing her top and her breasts were bared to the chilly air of the locker room.

And the tape recorder she hadn’t had a chance to remove?

Well, it was bared to the chilly air of the locker room as well.

“Crap!” she sputtered when he pulled free of her in surprise, eyes locked on the piece of silver plastic skittering across the locker room floor, before bending to pick it up and hold it towards her, accusation in his gaze. “Rafael-”

“A reporter?!” he asked, disgust and horror in his voice.

Realization.

“You’re a _reporter_?!”

Jane could do nothing but stare at him.

At the recording device he held with such obvious disgust.

“You were _spying_ on me.”

The sound of the door slamming closed behind him served as the perfect punctuation for Jane Gloriana Villanueva’s night and she groaned as she sagged to the floor beneath her locker.

“Great job Jane,” she whispered, head falling back against the cold metal. “You’ll never get an interview with him now.”

It seemed, for now, her big break would have to wait.

**

The day the Miami Boxing club-owned, operated and managed by one former playboy and heir, Rafael Solano-opened, there wasn’t much of a fanfare.

For which he was grateful.

He’d had his fill of paparazzi following him over the recent months since he’d split from the Solano family legacy and stepped down from managing the Marbella. He’d been harassed and harangued, by Emilio and the paps, for so long it was almost strange not seeing his activities documented in every Miami gossip rag ever produced.

He’d noted, with interest, how silent the Miami Times had been on his exploits. There’d only been a short blurb on his fight, written by a staff writer named Petra, and that had been it. He’d made sure.

He got the Times every day now and read it religiously.

Well, he read the Entertainment section religiously.

Particularly one part of the Entertainment section.

“Have you ever watched the Passions of Santos, Luisa?” he asked one morning, about a month into the Club’s existence. He was sitting at his desk, an ice pack balanced precariously on his knee and the Entertainment section of the Times was open, as per usual.

Luisa, in the process of not stalking Rose, her ex and his ex-manager, on Twitter, snorted.

“The telenovela?” she asked, without looking up from her phone. “No, why?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes drifting slowly over the name of the writer of the article he was reading. “Just wondering. Something happened last night that was kind of confusing and I wanted to see what someone else’s opinion was on it.”

Luisa groaned, rolling her eyes-which she knew he didn’t see-and muttered under her breath, “I can’t believe you’re watching that garbage. I swear, you’ve gotten soft since you stopped fighting professionally.”

Before he could come up with an argument, someone cleared their throat in the doorway and a blessedly familiar voice murmured, “Excuse me? Mr. Solano?”

His heart lurched in his chest as he slowly lowered the paper and that name he’d stared at mere seconds before, tucked underneath a headline declaring El Presidente was back-this time for good-ran through his mind.

Jane.

Jane Gloriana Villanueva.

In the flesh. In his brand new club. Gazing at him with that bright hunger in her eyes.

She was in wedge sandals.  And cut-off jean shorts. And a soft looking t-shirt.

None of which did anything to hide those curves he’d held after the fight that made him.

Those curves that he’d dreamt of every night since he’d held her.

“Jane,” he said, so calm despite the hammering of his heart and that pert nose of hers wrinkling with hidden laughter. “The reporter.”

She smiled, a little sheepishly, at that and shrugged. “I’m completely off the record here, today, Mr. Solano,” she said, holding her hands up before her. “I was sent by my boss to get a statement about the Club. If you’re willing to talk to me.”

The way she said it, so uncertainly.

He’d been cruel to her, that night, pushing her away, yelling at her. Taking her tape recorder.

“Call me Rafael,” he said quietly, rising from his chair to pull her into his office; Luisa snorted at that and excused herself, muttering something about taking the boxer out of the playboy but not the playboy out of the boxer.

“I’m sorry,” they both said, toe-to-toe once more when the door snapped closed behind his sister, and he couldn’t keep his hands from her soft, warm skin.

He smiled, fingers brushing up her arms slowly to tuck her hair behind her ears, smiling when she leaned a little into his touch.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Jane,” he murmured ducking his head so he could meet her gaze. “I was an ass that night, high on pain meds and adrenaline. I regretted doing what I did the moment I left you.”

She shrugged and laughed, dark eyes sparkling with that spunky humor he’d seen that night.

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have been spying on you,” she said, reaching out to punch him lightly in his chest. “We were both kind of stupid, that night.”

She was smiling up at him, her plump lips just begging to be kissed and he couldn’t help himself.

He kissed her.

And as her warm, tiny body pressed against his she groaned, mouth opening against his own.

He ran his fingers down her back, to her ass and in a repeat of that night he pulled her tight against him, reveling as he did when she raised herself on her toes to deepen the kiss, her fingers tangling in his black t-shirt.

“I don’t think-I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a shirt,” she panted when they finally broke the kiss, her eyes dazed and her lip gloss smeared. “I don’t like it.”

He laughed at the obvious disapproval in her gaze and pulled the shirt off.

“Better, Jane the Reporter?” he asked, slightly breathless as well, perching on the edge of his desk and dark brow raised.

She snorted at the challenge and bracketed his hips with her hands, leaning towards him with a soft hum, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth as her gaze skated over his chiseled muscles and back up to his own swollen lips.

“I take my job very seriously, Mr. Solano,” she said, nose wrinkling and eyes heated with her own challenge. “I always get the story right in the end.”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to tip of her nose. “And what story are you writing today?”

“The story about how you can take the playboy out of the boxer, but you can’t take the playboy out of the boxing club,” she whispered, lips brushing over his own, dark eyes daring him to do-

Something they’d both undoubtedly regret.

“You stole that from my sister just now, didn’t you?” he asked, hand rising to cup her chin and she grinned.

“Trade secret,” she said, laughter hidden in her voice. “But yeah, little bit. I just...I just wanted to see how the club turned out.”

 _And you,_ she left unsaid.

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, smearing the gloss a little bit more and smiled.

“Well, how about I give you the tour, Ms. Villanueva,” he said, pushing off his desk and taking her hand. “That way you can do a proper spread on the club.”

 _And me,_ he left unsaid.

Jane smiled, eyes sparkling and she squeezed his fingers.

“I’ll make sure it gets on the front page of the Entertainment section of the Times,” she promised and he laughed.

“You better, that’s the only section of the paper worth reading,” he said and she blushed.

Which, of course, made his heart lurch in his chest.

 _I’m in trouble,_ he thought as he led her through his own corner of paradise that he himself had made with his own blood, sweat and tears (literally). _Jane the Reporter has me on my knees._

_And I wouldn’t have it any other way._

**

**_THE MIAMI BOXING CLUB IS A FORMER PLAYBOY’S HAVEN-AND YOUR NEW FITNESS DESTINATION_ **

_Jane Gloriana Villanueva_

_Entertainment Reporter_

_MIAMI — There’s a familiar name being tossed around the upper-echelon of the boxing world these days. Rafael Solano. But the former boxing champion is not taking on anymore matches, in hopes of gaining fame and fortune outside of his father’s legacy. He’s actually teaching young fighters how to win in the ring. And he’s doing so from his very own boxing gym, the Miami Boxing club, located at 1550 Antilla Ave. After winning his last match against former champion, Lachlan Moore, Rafael Solano was able to quit the fights and his father’s hotel in one fell swoop. It was a move some felt was idiotic and ill-conceived. But in the coming months, proved profitable for Solano. The Miami Boxing Club is a definite destination for those hoping to learn how to box and yes, even for those just hoping to keep those beach bodies ready. The hours of the club are kind of tight these days, many people hoping to be taught by the former playboy and boxing star…”_

_**_

“What do you think?”

Jane watched him, her chin propped on his chest and he tried to concentrate on her words and not the way her body felt, sprawled over his.

“Mmm, it’s okay,” he said, hiding his face behind the piece of paper she’d pulled free of her bag she’d tossed beside his bed the night before.

“Hey!” she said, smacking his chest, even as he started laughing and wrapped his legs around her hips, holding the paper over her head before she could snatch it away from him. “Jerk!”

“I love it,” he said, dropping the paper over the side of the bed and cradling her face between his hands. “I love everything you write, even if it’s just a recap of this week’s Passion of Santos.”

She was laughing, breathless as he kissed her and her eyes were sparkling despite the pout she was trying so desperately to keep in place.

“Really?” she asked, “it’s not terrible?”

“No,” he said, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her closer for a long kiss that left them both breathless. “I love it. Just like I love you.”

“Oh,” she said, stilling in his arms, eyes flying wide. “You-okay. Um…”

And he grinned, reaching under his pillow to remove a tiny blue box.

“Jane the Ring Girl, a.k.a. the Reporter,” he said, grinning up at her as he flipped the box open to reveal a delicate diamond ring, “Will you marry me?”

And for the first time since they’d first seen each other, that long ago day in a musty smelling weight room, her heart actually stopped beating.

  
  
  



End file.
